


A Work of Art

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Artist Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Drawing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, References to Canon up to Season 10, Roommates, Sexual References, Some angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 23:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “It's okay, I understand if you don't like it."Dean swivels around and his mouth drops. He swaps looks between his roommate, who should definitely be in class right now, and the pad. “Cas—""It's just a hobby I sort of picked up after my dad left my mom, and you were my nearest subject,” Cas clarifies, taking a cautious step forward. “It doesn't have to mean anything."





	A Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I thought of the porcelain line first and rolled with it.
> 
> Also inspired by my own struggles drawing the handsome fella mentioned. (I was really close to going with demon eyes, but I’m glad I didn’t.)
> 
> Oh yeah, hi, I’m also a part-time artist.

He shouldn’t.

That’s the first and last thought Dean has before he does it.

Dean knows pretty much everything about Cas. If there’s a ceremony for roommates to take before they move in with one another, Dean would have repeated the whole spiel, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse. They’ve only lived together for a year, but they’ve been through a lot. 

But there are some things Cas is expert at keeping from Dean—or  _thinks_ he’s expert at keeping, anyway. Like the fact that Cas is a closeted artist.

Cas’s sketchbook is like his diary, lock and all: He keeps it under close eyes, so Dean hasn’t seen anything. Even the napkin doodles Cas makes in the mornings are quickly discarded. Sometimes he sneaks them into his pocket over a cup of Joe, but most of the time, Dean will find them in the kitchen garbage after Cas has left and, the clever bastard uses every last paper fiber on the thing enough to cover up the drawing with his strawberry pastries and that fucking orange juice. 

It’s totally ridiculous, considering the guy is probably miles above Dean artistically, who’s a mechanic by trade. Not that mechanics can’t be artistic, but along with the talent, Dean doesn’t have the time or patience he has with a four-wheeler to do it. Cas is studying to be a therapist, so both those things are natural gifts. 

And on top of it all, the guy’s fucking gorgeous. Dean hasn’t given thought to his sexuality until meeting Cas through their mutual friend, Charlie. He probably shouldn’t be thinking anything of the nature unless he’s out to sabotage their friendship and their rooming situation, but goddamn, he has a face like porcelain that never cracks except in his lips—a face just begging to be sat on. And that hair that looks like it’s getting a lot of frottage action with a balloon, paired with those crazy blue eyes.

Not to mention, Dean’s gotten all-exclusive access to his body living together, because Cas certainly isn’t uncomfortable with nudity. The glutes on him, they’re just so—

Easy. _Too_ easy. Dean glances around to make sure he’s not being pranked by Ashton Kutcher. There don’t seem to be hidden cameras (then again, that would defeat the  _hidden_ part), so he turns back to look at it. There, on Cas’s bed, is his sketchbook. It’s an eight by ten, making it easy to hide on most days except today, for some reason. With his suspicion intact but his curiosity heightened even more, he picks it up and starts flipping through it.

And that’s when he sees it. Well, not  _it,_ but rather  _them._

"Wow..." He breathes like he’s exhaling every stroke of the graphite on the pages—every line and every shade. Even the pieces with color are spot on. The green is just so vibrant, Dean never realized...

“It's okay, I understand if you don't like it."

Dean swivels around and his mouth drops. He swaps looks between his roommate, who should definitely be in class right now, and the pad. “Cas—"

"It's just a hobby I sort of picked up after my dad left my mom, and you were my nearest subject,” Cas clarifies, taking a cautious step forward. “It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Cas…”

"I can draw other people,” he continues, “you know, to make it less weird. I messed up on your nose and your jawline a couple times anyway."

"Cas.  _Stop.”_ Dean pauses, drinking in the surprised expression on Cas’s face before adding, “I was gonna say it's amazing..." Dean laughs, "it's just, why do I have demon eyes in this one?”

"You know…” Cas scratches his neck. “Because you're not you when you're hungry?"

"Well that's certainly true, but why are they  _really_  black?"

"I suck at getting the proportions right with pupils."

"So you made me a demon?"

"Hey, look at it this way: it's almost symbolic, you know?” Cas says, moving closer until he’s a foot away from Dean, looking at him with those fucking blues. “You've been through so much of your own crap, sometimes your inner demon comes out. But you use it as a force for good. You see other people struggling with their own demons, and you lend a hand to help them. You've helped me a lot, Dean."

"Wow Cas, I don't know what to say except I appreciate you... bullshitting to make me feel better." Dean says it with a grin on his face, but Cas still takes the liberty to slap his left shoulder. It's a running joke between them that Dean's going to need reconstructive surgery on it before he hits 30 with how much Cas touches him there— _usually_  hitting him, because Dean's always saying something stupid.

Except now, Dean's not saying anything, period, and Cas's hand is still on Dean's shoulder, stretching out to cover the whole area. Dean tears his gaze to look at Cas and his breath catches before it can even travel the length of his throat. Cas meets his eyes and licks his lips—which is _totally_ Dean's move. He's done it so many times, between Lydia and Casey and...

Cas.

_Oh._

Cas speaks for Dean, closing the distance first.

Dean's jolted from his musings long enough to remember how to kiss and wrap his arms around Cas. He tastes like Burt's Bees chapstick on the surface and like warm honey inside. He knows because kissing Cas back with more fever than Mercury's body temperature and Cas is making a Super Sonic Man out of him the more tongue he adds.

Cas pulls away all too soon for Dean's liking, but Dean gets a close-up of his face, so he's not complaining. "I wasn't bullshitting  _completely_ ,” he says.

"Yeah, no, I got that," Dean replies breathlessly. And Dean’s no artist, but the way Cas is looking at him deserves to be in a gallery.

 


End file.
